CHAPTER X.
The things that once she loved are still the same; Yet now there needs another name To give the feeling which they claim, While she the feeling gives; She cannot call it gladness or delight; And yet there seems to be a richer, lovelier light On e'en the humblest thing that lives. --WASHINGTON ALLSTON.
The history given by le Bourdon lasted until the canoes reached thesouth shore. Glad enough was Dorothy to see them both safe back, forneither of her companions had yet awoke. It was then midnight, and allnow retired to seek the rest which might be so needful to prepare themfor the exertions of the next day. The bee-hunter slept in his canoe,while Margery shared the buffalo-skin of her sister.
As perfect security, for the moment at least, was felt by the sleepers,their slumbers were sound, and reached into the morning. Then le Bourdonarose, and withdrawing to a proper distance, he threw off his clothesand plunged into the stream, in conformity with a daily practice of hisat that genial season of the year. After bathing, the young man ascendeda hill, whence he might get a good view of the opposite shore, andpossibly obtain some notion of what the Pottawattamies were about. Inall his movements, however, the bee-hunter had an eye to the concealmentof his person, it being of the last importance that the savages shouldnot learn his position. With the intention of concealment, the fire hadbeen suffered to go down, a smoke being a sign that no Indian would belikely to overlook. As for the canoe and the bivouac of the party, thewild rice and an intermediate hill formed a perfect cover, so long asnothing was shown above them.
From the height to which he ascended, the bee-hunter, aided by hisglass, got a very clear view of Whiskey Centre and the parts adjacent.The savages were already stirring, and were busy in the variousavocations of the red man on a war-path. One party was disposing ofthe body of their dead companion. Several were cooking, or cleaning thewild-fowl shot in the bay, while a group was collected near the spot ofthe wished-for spring, reluctant to abandon the hopes to which it hadgiven birth, at the very moment they were plotting to obtain the scalpof the "medicine-man." The beloved "fire-water," that seduces so manyto their destruction, who have enjoyed the advantages of moral teaching,and which has been a withering curse on the red man of this continent,still had its influence; and the craving appetites of several of thedrunkards of the party brought them to the spot, as soon as their eyesopened on the new day. The bee-hunter could see some of this clusterkneeling on the rocks, lapping like hounds at the scattered littlepools of the liquor, while others scented around, in the hope of yetdiscovering the bird that laid the golden egg. Le Bourdon had now littleexpectation that his assumed character could be maintained among thesesavages any longer, did accident again throw him in their way. Thechiefs, he saw, had distrusted him all along, but had given him anopportunity to prove what he could do, in order to satisfy the morevulgar curiosity of their young men. He wisely determined, therefore, tokeep out of the hands of his enemies.
Although le Bourdon could hold a conversation in the tongue ofthe Ojebways, he was not fond of so doing. He comprehended withoutdifficulty nearly all of what was said by them, and had observed theprevious night that the warriors made many allusions to a chief whomthey styled Onoah, but who he himself knew was usually called ScalpingPeter among the whites of that frontier. This savage had a fearfulreputation at all the garrisons, though he never showed himself inthem; and he was now spoken of by the Pottawattamies present, as if theyexpected to meet him soon, and to be governed by his commands or hisadvice. The bee-hunter had paid great attention whenever this dreadedname was mentioned, for he was fully aware of the importance ofkeeping clear of an enemy who bore so bad a reputation that it was notconsidered prudent for a white man to remain long in his company evenin a time of peace. His English sobriquet had been obtained from thecircumstances of its being reputed that this chief, who seemed to belongto no tribe in particular, while he had great influence with all, hadon divers occasions murdered the palefaces who fell in his way, and thenscalped them. It was added, that he had already forty notches on hispole, to note that number of scalps taken from the hated whites. Inshort, this Indian, a sort of chief by birth, though of what tribe noone exactly knew, appeared to live only to revenge the wrongs done hiscolor by the intruders, who had come from toward the rising sun todrive his people into the great salt lake on the other side of the RockyMountains. Of course there was a good deal that was questionable inthese reports; a rumor in the "openings" and on the prairies, havingthis general resemblance to those that circulate in town, and indrawing-rooms, and at feasts, that no one of them all can be relied onas rigidly exact. But le Bourdon was still young, and had yet to learnhow little of that which we all hear is true, and how very much isfalse. Nevertheless, as an Indian tradition is usually more accuratethan a white man's written history, so is a rumor of the forestgenerally entitled to more respect than the ceaseless gossipings of thebeings who would be affronted were they not accounted civilized.
The bee-hunter was still on the elevated bit of ground, making hisobservations, when he was joined by Margery. The girl appeared fresh andhandsome, after a night of sleep, and coming from her dressing-room ina thicket, and over a stream of sweet running water; but she was sad andthoughtful. No sooner had le Bourdon shaken her hand, and repeated histhanks for the succor of the past night, than the full heart of Margerypoured out its feelings, as the swollen stream overflows its banks, andbegan to weep.
"Brother is awake," she said, as soon as her sobs were quieted by apowerful effect; "but, as is usual with him after hard drinking, sostupid, that Dolly cannot make him understand our danger. He tells herhe has seen too many Injins to be afraid of these, and that they willnever harm a family that has brought so much liquor into their country."
"His senses must be at a low ebb, truly, if he counts on Injinfriendship because he has sold fire-water to the young men!" answeredle Bourdon, with a nice understanding of not only Indian nature, butof human nature. "We may like the sin, Margery, while we detest thetempter. I have never yet met with the man, pale-face or red-skin, whodid not curse, in his sober moments, the hand that fed his appetitewhile intoxicated."
"I dare say that may be very true," returned the girl, in a low voice;"but one has need of his reason to understand it. What will become of usnow, it is hard to say."
"Why, now, Margery, more than yesterday, or the day before?"
"Yesterday there were no savages near us, and Gershorn had all alongtold us he intended to start for the garrison at the head of the lake,as soon as he got back from his visit to the openings. He is back; butnot in a state to protect his wife and sister from the red man, who willbe looking for us as soon as they can build a canoe, or anything thatwill do to cross the river with."
"Had they even a canoe," returned le Bourdon, coolly, "they would notknow where to look for us. Thank Heaven! that will be a job that wouldtake some time; nor is a bark canoe built in a minute. But, Margery,if your brother be a little dull and heavy, after his debauch, _I_ amsober, and as much awake as ever I was in my life."
"Oh! you have no weakness like that of poor brother's, to make youotherwise; but, Bourdon, you will naturally wish to take care ofyourself and your property, and will quit us the first good opportunity.I'm sure that we have no right to expect you will stay a minute longerthan it is your interest to do so, and I do not know that I wish it."
"Not wish it, Margery!" exclaimed the bee-hunter, in the manner of adisappointed man. "I had supposed you would have wished my company. But,now I know the contrary, I shall not much care how soon I go, or intowhose hands I fall."
It is strange how apt are those who ought to understand one another soreadily, to misinterpret each other's thoughts. Margery had never seenthe bee-hunter twenty-four hours before, though she had often heardof him, and of his success in his art; for the fame of a man of goodreputation and active qualities spreads far on a frontier. The veryindividual whose existence would be nearly overlooked in a c
rowdedregion, shall be spoken of, and known by his qualities, a hundredleagues from his place of residence, when settlements are few and farapart. In this way, Margery had heard of Boden, or of "Bourdon," as shecalled him, in common with hundreds who, confounding his real name withhis sobriquet, made the mistake of using the last under the impressionthat it was the true appellation. Margery had no other knowledge ofFrench than the few words gleaned in her slow progress among a frontieron which, it is true, more of that language than of any other was heard,but heard under circumstances that were not particularly favorable tothe acquisition of a foreign tongue. Had she understood the real meaningof "Bourdon," she would have bitten off her tongue before she would haveonce called Boden by such an appellation; though the bee-hunter himselfwas so accustomed to his Canadian nickname as to care nothing at allabout it. But Margery did not like to give pain to any one; and, leastof all, would she desire to inflict it on the bee-hunter, though hewere only an acquaintance of a day. Still, Margery could not mustersufficient courage to tell her new friend how much he was mistaken, andthat of all the youths she had ever met she would most prefer to keephim near her brother and sister in their distress; while the young man,inspired by a pure and infant passion, was just in the frame of mind tobelieve the worst of himself, and of his claims to the attention of herwho had begun to occupy so many of his thoughts.
No explanation occurring, our young people descended from the hill,misconceiving each other's meaning and wishes, and unhappy under theinfluence of an ideal source of misery, when actual circumstancescreated so many that were substantial and real. Gershom was foundawake, but, as his sister had described him, stupid and lethargic. Thebee-hunter at once saw that, in his present condition, Whiskey Centrewould still be an incumbrance rather than of any service, in the eventof an occasion for extraordinary exertion. Margery had hinted that itusually took twenty-four hours to bring her brother entirely round,after one of his serious debauches; and within that time it was morethan probable that the fate of the family would be decided.
Le Bourdon thought intently, during breakfast, of the condition of hisparty, and of the best mode of proceeding, while the pallid and anxiousyoung creature at his side believed he was deliberating solely on thebest means of extricating himself and his store of honey, from thesavages on the other shore. Had the acquaintance between these youngpeople been of longer date than it actually was, Margery could nothave entertained a notion so injurious to the bee-hunter, for a singlemoment; but there was nothing either violent, or depreciating, insupposing that one so near being a total stranger would think first ofhimself and his own interests, in the situation in which this young manwas now placed.
Little was said during the meal. Dorothy was habitually silent; theresult of grief and care. As for her husband, he was too stupid totalk, though usually somewhat garrulous; while the Indian seldom didtwo things at the same time. This was the hour for acting; when thatfor talking should arrive, he would be found equal to its duties.Pigeonswing could either abstain from food, or could indulge in itwithout measure, just as occasion offered. He had often gone fordays without tasting a mouthful, with the exception of a few berries,perhaps; and he had lain about the camp-fire, a week at a time, gorginghimself with venison, like an anaconda. It is perhaps fortunate for theAmerican Indian, that this particular quality of food is so very easy ofdigestion, since his excesses on it are notorious, and so common to hishabits as almost to belong to his nature. Death might otherwise often bethe consequence.
When the breakfast was ended, it was time to consult about the futurecourse. As yet, the Pottawattamies had made no new discovery; but thesagacity of the red man was ever to be feared, when it came to be merelya question of finding his foe in a forest.
"We have obtained one advantage over the enemy," said le Bourdon, "bycrossing the river. Water leaves no trail; even had Crowsfeather acanoe, he might not know where to go in it, in order to find us."
"Dat not so," put in the Chippewa, a little dogmatically; "know we habcanoe--know cross river in him."
"Why should they know this, Pigeonswing? We may have gone out upon thelake, or we may have gone up in the oak openings again, for anything thePottawattamies can know to the contrary."
"Tell you, not so. Know don't go on lake, cause wind blow. Know don'tgo up river, cause dat hard work; know come here, cause dat easy. Injinlike to do what easy, and pale-face do just what Injin do. Crowsfeathermake raft, pretty soon; den he come look arter scalp."
"Yes," said Margery, gently; "you had better load your canoe at once,and go on the lake, while the savages cannot reach you. The wind is fairfor them that are to go north; and I have heard you say that you arebound to Mackinaw."
"I shall load my canoe, and I shall load yours, too, Margery; but Ishall not go away from this family, so long as any in it stand in needof my services."
"Brother will be able to help us by afternoon. He manages a canoe well,when himself; so go, Bourdon, while you can. I dare say you have amother at home; or a sister perhaps a wife--"
"Neither," interrupted the bee-hunter, with emphasis. "No one expectsme; no one has a right to expect me."
The color stole into pretty Margery's cheeks as she heard these words,and a ray of comfort gleamed on an imagination that, for the last hour,had been portraying the worst. Still, her generous temper did not likethe idea of the bee-hunter's sacrificing himself for those who hadso few claims on him, and she could not but again admonish him of thenecessity of losing no time.
"You will think better of this, Bourdon," the girl resumed. "We aregoing south, and cannot quit the river with this wind, but you couldnot have a better time to go north, unless the wind blows harder than Ithink it does."
"The lake is a bad water for a canoe, when there is much wind," put inGershom, yawning after he had spoken, as if the effort fatigued him,"I wonder what we're all doing over on this side of the river! WhiskeyCentre is a good enough country for me; I'm going back to look arter mycasks, now I've breakfasted. Come, Doll; let's load up, and be off."
"You are not yourself yet, Gershom," returned the sorrowful wife, "oryou would not talk in this way. You had better listen to the advice ofBourdon, who has done so much for us already, and who will tell you theway to keep out of Injin clutches. We owe our lives to Bourdon, Gershom,and you should thank him for it."
Whiskey Centre muttered a few half intelligible words of thanks, andrelapsed into his state of drowsy indifference. The bee-hunter saw,however, that the effects of the brandy were leaving him, and he managedto get him on one side, where he persuaded the fellow to strip and gointo the water. The bath did wonders for the poor creature, who soongot to be so far himself again, as to be of use, instead of being anincumbrance. When sober, and more especially when sober for severalconsecutive days, Gershom was a man of sufficient energy, possessingoriginally great personal strength and activity, which had beenessentially lessened, however, by his excesses in liquor. It has alreadybeen stated what a different being he became, in a moral point of view,after having been sober for any length of time.
On his return from the bathing, le Bourdon again joined the females.Margery had been weeping; but she smiled in a friendly way, on meetinghis eye, and appeared less anxious for his departure than she had beenan hour before. As the day advanced, and no signs of the savages wereseen, a sense of greater security began to steal over the females, andMargery saw less necessity for the departure of their new friend. Itwas true, he was losing a wind; but the lake was rough, and after allit might be better to wait. In short, now that no immediate danger wasapparent, Margery began to reason in conformity with her wishes, as isso apt to be the case with the young and inexperienced. The bee-hunterperceived this change in the deportment of his fair friend, and was wellenough disposed to hope it would admit of a favorable construction.
All this time, the Chippewa had taken little visible interest in thestate of the party to which he had now attached himself. The previousevening had been fertile in excitement and in gratification
, and he hadsince slept and ate to his entire content. He was ready to meet eventsas they might arise, and began to plot the means of obtaining morePottawattamie scalps. Let not the refined reader feel disdisgust at thisexhibition of the propensities of an American savage. Civilized life hashad, and still has, very many customs, little less excusable than thatof scalping. Without dragging into the account the thousand and one sinsthat disgrace and deform society, it will be sufficient to look into thesingle interest of civilized warfare, in order to make out our case. Inthe first place, the noblest strategy of the art is, to put the greatestpossible force on the least of the enemy, and to slay the weaker partyby the mere power of numbers. Then, every engine that ingenuity caninvent, is drawn into the conflict; and rockets, revolvers, shells, andall other infernal devices, are resorted to, in order to get thebetter of an enemy who is not provided with such available means ofdestruction. And after the battle is over, each side commonly claimsthe victory; sometimes, because a partial success has been obtained in asmall portion of the field; sometimes, because half a dozen horses haverun away with a gun, carrying it into the hostile ranks; and, again,because a bit of rag has fallen from the hands of a dead man, and beenpicked up by one of the opposing side. How often has it happened that abelligerent, well practised in his art, has kept his own colors out ofthe affair, and then boasted that they were not lost! Now, an Indianpractises no such shameless expedients. His point of honor is not abit of rag, but a bit of his skin. He shaves his head because the hairencumbers him; but he chivalrously leaves a scalp-lock, by the aid ofwhich his conquerors can the more easily carry away the covetedtrophy. The thought of cheating in such a matter never occurs to hisunsophisticated mind; and as for leaving his "colors" in barracks, whilehe goes in the field himself, he would disdain it--nay, cannot practiseit; for the obvious reason that his head would have to be left withthem.
Thus it was with Pigeonswing. He had made his toilet for the war-path,and was fierce in his paint, but honest and fair-dealing in otherparticulars. If he could terrify his enemies by looking like a skeleton,or a demon, it was well; his enemy would terrify him, if possible, bysimilar means. But neither would dream, or did dream, of curtailing, bya single hair, that which might be termed the flag-staff of his scalp.If the enemy could seize it, he was welcome to the prize; but if hecould seize that of the enemy, no scruples on the score of refinement,or delicacy, would be apt to interfere with his movements. It was inthis spirit, then, that Pigeonswing came to the canoe, where le Bourdonwas holding a little private discourse with Margery, and gave utteranceto what was passing in his mind.
"Good time, now, get more scalps, Bourdon," said the Chippewa, in hisclipping, sententious English.
"It is a good time, too, to keep our own, Chippewa," was the answer."Your scalp-lock is too long, to be put before Pottawattamie eyeswithout good looking after it."
"Nebber mind him--if go, go; if stay, stay. Always good for warrior tobring home scalp."
"Yes; I know your customs in this respect, Pigeonswing, but ours aredifferent. We are satisfied if we can keep out of harm's way, when wehave our squaws and pappooses with us."
"No pappooses here," returned the Indian, looking around him--"dat yoursquaw, eh?"
The reader can readily imagine that this abrupt question brought blushesinto the cheeks of pretty Margery, making her appear ten timesmore handsome than before; while even le Bourdon did not take theinterrogatory wholly undisturbed. Still, the latter answered manfully,as became his sex.
"I am not so fortunate as to have a squaw, and least of all to havethis" said le Bourdon.
"Why no hab her--she good squaw," returned the literal-mindedIndian--"han'some 'nough for chief. You ask; she hab--now squawwell--always like warrior to ask him fuss; den say, yes."
"Aye, that may do with your red-skin squaws," le Bourdon hastilyreplied; for he saw that Margery was not only distressed, but a littledispleased--"but not with the young women of the pale-faces. I never sawMargery before last evening; and it takes time for a pale-face girl toknow a youth."
"Just so wid red-skin--sometime don't know, till too late! See plentydat, in wigwam."
"Then it is very much in the wigwams as it is in the houses. I haveheard this before."
"Why not same?--skin make no difference--pale-face spile squaw,too--make too much of her."
"That can never be!" exclaimed le Bourdon, earnestly. "When a pretty,modest, warm-hearted young woman accepts a youth for a husband, he cannever make enough of her!"
On hearing sentiments so agreeable to a woman's ears, Margery lookeddown, but she looked pleased. Pigeonswing viewed the matter verydifferently; and being somewhat of a partisan in matters relatingto domestic economy, he had no thought of leaving a point of so muchimportance in so bad a way. Accordingly, it is not surprising that,in pursuing the subject, he expressed opinions in several essentialsdiametrically the reverse of those of the bee-hunter.
'"Easy 'nough spile squaw," rejoined the Chippewa. "What she good for,don't make her work? Can't go on the warpath--can't take scalp--can'tshoot deer--can't hunt--can't kill warrior--so muss work. Dat what squawgood for."
"That may do among red men, but we pale-faces find squaws good forsomething else--we love them and take care of them--keep them from thecold in winter, and from the heat in summer; and try to make them ascomfortable and happy as we can."
"Dat good talk for young squaw's ears," returned the Chippewa, a littlecontemptuously as to manner; though his real respect for the bee-hunter,of whose prowess he had so lately been a witness, kept him a littlewithin bounds "but it bess not take nobody in. What Injin say to squaw,he do--what pale-face say, he no do."
"Is that true, Bourdon?" demanded Margery, laughing at the Indian'searnestness.
"I shall be honest, and own that there may be some truth in it--for theInjin promises nothing, or next to nothing, and it is easy to squareaccounts, in such cases. That white men undertake more than they alwaysperform, is quite likely to be the fact The Injin gets his advantage inthis matter, by not even thinking of treating his wife as a woman shouldbe treated."
"How should treat woman?" put in Pigeonswing with warmth. "When warrioreat venison, gib her rest, eh? Dat no good--what you call good, den? Ifgood hunter husband, she get 'nough--if an't good hunter, she don't get'nough. Just so wid Injin--sometime hungry, sometime full. Dat way tolive!"
"Aye, that may be your red man's ways, but it is not the manner in whichwe wish to treat our wives. Ask pretty Margery, here, if she would besatisfied to wait until her husband had eaten his dinner, and then comein for the scraps. No-no-Pigeonswing; we feed our women and childrenfirst and come in last, ourselves."
"Dat good for pappoose--he little; want venison--squaw tough; use towait. Do her good."
Margery now laughed outright, at these specimens of Indian gallantry,which only too well embody the code of the red man's habits. Doubtlessthe heart has its influence among even the most savage people, fornature has not put into our breasts feelings and passions to bediscarded by one's own expedients, or wants. But no advocate of theAmerican Indian has ever yet been able to maintain that woman fills herproper place in his estimate of claims. As for Margery, though so longsubject to the whims, passions and waywardness of a drunkard, shehad reaped many of the advantages of having been born in that woman'sparadise, New England. We are no great admirers of the legacy leftby the Puritan to his descendants, taken as an inheritance in morals,manners, and customs, and as a whole; though there are parts, in the wayof codicils, that there is no portion of the Christian world which mightnot desire to emulate. In particular, do we allude to the estimate putupon, and the treatment received by their women. Our allusion is not tothe refinements and gracefulness of polished intercourse; for of THEM,the Blarney Rock of Plymouth has transmitted but a meagre account in theinventory, and perhaps the less that is said about this portion of thefamily property the better; but, dropping a few degrees in the socialscale, and coming down to the level where we are accustomed to regardp
eople merely as men and women, we greatly question if any other portionof the world can furnish a parallel to the manly, considerate, rational,and wisely discriminating care, that the New England husband, as therule, bestows on his wife; the father on his daughter; or the brotheron his sister. Gershom was a living, and, all things considered, aremarkable instance of these creditable traits. When sober, he wasuniformly kind to Dorothy; and for Margery he would at any time riskhis life. The latter, indeed, had more power over him than his ownwife possessed, and it was her will and her remonstrances that mostfrequently led him back from the verge of that precipice over which hewas so often disposed to cast himself. By some secret link she bound himclosest to the family dwelling, and served most to recall the days ofyouth and comparative innocence, when they dwelt together beneaththe paternal roof, and were equally the objects of the affection andsolicitude of the same kind mother. His attachment to Dorothy wassincere, and, for one so often brutalized by drink, steady; but Dorothycould not carry him as far back, in recollections, as the one onlysister who had passed the morning of life with him, in the same homelybut comfortable abode.
We have no disposition to exaggerate the character of those whom it isthe fashion to term the American yeomen, though why such an appellationshould be applied to any in a state of society to which legaldistinctions are unknown, is what we could never understand. There areno more of esquires and yeomen in this country than there are of knightsand nobles, though the quiet manner in which the transition from the oldto the new state of things has been made, has not rendered the publicmind very sensible to the changes. But, recurring to the class, which isa positive thing and consequently ought to have a name of some sort orother, we do not belong to those that can sound its praises without somelarge reservations on the score of both principles and manners. Least ofall, are we disposed to set up these yeomen as a privileged class,like certain of the titular statesmen of the country, and fall down andworship a calf--not a golden one by the way--of our own setting up.We can see citizens in these yeomen, but not princes, who are to beespecially favored by laws made to take from others to bestow on them.But making allowances for human infirmities, the American freeholderbelongs to a class that may justly hold up its head among the tillersof the earth. He improves daily, under the influence of beneficentlaws, and if he don't get spoiled, of which there is some danger, in theeagerness of factions to secure his favor, and through that favor hisVOTE--if he escape this danger, he will ere long make a reasonably nearapproach to that being, which the tongue of the flatterer would longsince have persuaded him he had already more than got to be.
To one accustomed to be treated kindly, as was the case with Margery,the Chippewa's theory for the management of squaws contained much toexcite her mirth, as well as her resentment, as she now made apparent byher remarks.
"You do not deserve to HAVE a wife, Pigeonswing," she cried,half-laughing, yet evidently alive to the feelings of her sex--"can haveno gratitude for a wife's tenderness and care. I wonder that a Chippewagirl can be found to have you?"
"Don't want him," coolly returned the Indian, making his preparationsto light his pipe--"got Winnebagoe squaw, already; good 'nough forme. Shoot her t'other husband and take his scalp--den she come into mywigwam."
"The wretch!" exclaimed Margery.
But this was a word the savage did not understand, and he continued topuff at the newly lighted tobacco, with all of a smoker's zeal. When thefire was secured, he found time to continue the subject.
"Yes, dat good war-path--got rifle; got wife; got TWO scalp! Don't do sowell, ebbery day."
"And that woman hoes your corn, and cooks your venison?" demanded thebee-hunter.
"Sartain--capital good to hoe--no good to cook--make deer meat too dry.Want to be made to mind business. Bye'm by teach him. No l'arn all atonce, like pale-face pappoose in school."
"Pigeonswing, have you never observed the manner in which the white mantreats his squaw?"
"Sartain--see him make much of her--put her in warm corner--wrapblanket round her--give her venison 'fore he eat himself--see all dat,often--what den? DAT don't make it right."
"I give you up, Chippewa, and agree with Margery in thinking you oughtnot to have a squaw, at all."
"T'ink alike, den--why no get marry?" asked the Indian, withoutcircumlocution.
Margery's face became red as fire; then her cheeks settled into thecolor of roses, and she looked down, embarrassed. The bee-hunter'sadmiration was very apparent to the Indian, though the girl did not dareto raise her eyes from the ground, and so did not take heed of it. Butthis gossiping was suddenly brought to an end by a most unexpected causeof interruption; the manner and form of which it shall be our office torelate, in the succeeding chapter.